An Unquiet Mind - NAY
Undeniable is her influence.(See: 2008 Iowa caucus)
A few months back, The Empress of Empathy (as Maureen Dowd called Ms. Winfrey) invited psychologist Kay Redfield Jamison to one of her programs about coping with bipolar disorder. Jamison, a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins, spoke of her lifelong battles and romances with mania, and touted her autobiography, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Mood and Madness (Alfred A. Knopf Inc., 1995).
Winfrey’s endorsement undoubtedly spiked sales of Jamison’s 13-year-old book and augmented discussion about the highly treatable but grossly under-diagnosed disorder, via millions of T.V. viewers.
I picked up the book because, like many people, I have people who are close to me who suffer from bipolar disorder, and I wanted to test Oprah’s Word.
I wonder how many people sought evaluation and read the book after the show aired. And when the doctors bills arrived, I wonder how many readers felt the way I did about the book.
Jamison’s experiences with bipolar disorder as an illness are intriguingly detailed and relatable, particularly in regard to snuffing her manias with therapy and medication. She asks, “If I can’t feel, if I can’t move, if I can’t think, and I can’t care, then what conceivable point is there in living?” But her accounts of the social and financial side effects are indicative of a small number of sufferers.
Jamison began treatment for her condition in the early 1970s, not long after the disorder was given a name other than psychosis, and incarceration or lobotomies were finally deemed cruelly inappropriate remedies. But resources were still not plentiful or easily attained.
At the time, Jamison was working on earning her PhD, and was able to surround herself with the foremost psychologists to learn more about the disorder. Her affluent family was remarkably supportive, and she recounts being graced by numerous understanding lovers. She struggled with a Lithium regimen but eventually embraced it, and sections of the book read like an advertorial for the archaic drug.
I cannot help but feel Jamison is rather out of touch with the bulk of sufferers. Though this book is simply a memoir, as a leading expert on bipolar disorder, she should have been more mindful of her obvious audience. Ultimately, her message seems to be this: if you have mounds of money, a posse of psychologists, supportive lovers and family, and a lifetime supply of Lithium, you can triumph over bipolar disorder.
Now, who fits that description? People like Winfrey, whose economic standing does not match the majority of her audience.
When Winfrey speaks, her audience listens and acts, and I am glad she shed her considerable spotlight on the subject of mental health, finally acknowledged as being just as important as physical health.
We have seen her magic at work before. Just look at her book club, which helped launch or re-ignite many authors’ careers (see Wally Lamb and Kaye Gibbons, among many others), and boost readership in general. Nearly every selection is now deemed a contemporary or re-discovered classic, regardless of actual acclaim. (For the record, Jamison’s memoir is not yet an Oprah Book Club selection.)
But every influential word is simply a gilded opinion. To avoid false hope in these matters, look past the hype and consider the source, and then pick up the book, not just “because Oprah said so.”
